


If I fall asleep who will keep the moon company?

by lost_lesbian



Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: Angst, Author Is Sleep Deprived, Character Study, Insomnia, M/M, Minor Gon Freecs/Killua Zoldyck, POV Killua Zoldyck, POV Second Person, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-14
Updated: 2020-10-14
Packaged: 2021-03-08 21:01:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,352
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27003148
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lost_lesbian/pseuds/lost_lesbian
Summary: At two am you realize that love is radicalAt three am it all becomes too much to bear, and you just want your thoughts to shut upOr: Killua can't sleep so he pines
Relationships: Gon Freecs/Killua Zoldyck
Comments: 12
Kudos: 33





	If I fall asleep who will keep the moon company?

**Author's Note:**

> okay look it is almost one am as I type this haha so guess who is projecting.
> 
> Also this is completely unedited I typed this in a rush from midnight to now. The decision to make it pov second person was pure impulse and im sorry but I like pov second person so much and think that it needs more love even if it is super niche.

Its a byproduct of the training, you suppose. The endless nights staring at the wall. Alluka never had to endure it, so its always just you and the wall, or the stars, or the sea. Whatever drew your eyes away from your thoughts in that moment.  
  
Not that it ever worked for long, because your thoughts are loud and demanding. Against your will, they well up in your chest until they spill over, threatening to crack their container like some sick parallel to a distant memory of water divination.  
  
And when they overflow, they overflow with a vengeance. So you try to avoid that. At 10pm you slip out of the room, assured by your sister's light snoring that she is in fact asleep now. You tread silently through the motel, and stop on the rooftop. Nothing more than a mere ghost that any passerby would overlook. You distract yourself with the view. The town sprawled out in front of you, not a city but certainly not unimpressive in that moment. You breathe in the fresh air and remind yourself that anything is better than being alone with your thoughts.  
  
At eleven you look up at the stars and they knock any air you had in your lungs out. They mirror the lights on the ground, only far more elegant. They make you understand what he said on the airship about the view.  
  
At eleven fifteen you remember you love him. You love him so much it lights your skin on fire, heat pools in your entire body and you swear your skin is melting off. For a second you wonder if this is what metamorphosis feels like. The thought forces a laugh from you, peircing the silent night like a blade. And laughter gives way to tears after you ask yourself if you'll still love him after the change is finished. Because that's what metamorphosis is, change. You know you need to do it, but to stop loving him is to stop breathing.  
  
Even after your revelation the feeling doesn't stop. Your love for him is planted in your very bones, seeds sprouting and tearing your skin up as your love for him begs to see the light of day, as it begs to finally bloom. Its too much for your body to hold. It is too much for any body to hold, not even the stars could carry such a weight unscathed.  
  
Because love is heavy. It weighs your heart down and fills you to your breaking point and sets you on fire. You understand this well. After all your family had drilled this into your head since you could walk, choosing to love is the difficult path, it is easier to not. You are on fire and they were right, but God damnit you are in love.

~~Love is violent, if you do it right love is radical. You could burn the world down if you're not careful.~~

Not just with him, but with the world. You love your sister, and you love the starlight, you love how chocolate robots melt on your tongue, you fall a little bit in love with strangers everyday. It spills out of you and you can't help but pour it out. You can't help but see something worth protecting in humanity itself. You pour it out with blood and fire, but you are in love. Your anger proves this.  
  
The world is confusing but there are two fundamental truths. You love him. _You love_.  
  
At midnight you remember the third fundamental truth: you are alone.  
  
For all the love you have to pour out, right now, alone on the rooftop of a dilapidated motel, continents away from your beloved, you are utterly alone. You have just come to a great realization and yet you are the only one who gets to experience it. You are the only one who can feel the tightness in your chest, who can feel the way your thoughts reverb from your head into your chest down into your toes. It spreads slowly through you like molasses as the weight of your existential crisis hits you. You want to share this with someone, desperately.  
  
Its unfair. How you can never fully share this emotion with amyone. How many quiet revolutions have happened in someone's head with only them as a witness. You wish you could live more than your lifetime, to see every silent revolution, to feel every quiet revelation. But you can't. You are just a boy on a rooftop who is feeling the crushing weight of love.  
  
You could call him. Or wake your sister. But both of them would smile sweetly at you and nod. Neither would share in the crushing despair you're feeling. Its unfair how humans can only communicate through speech, because you desperately want to show your beloved every facet of yourself that cannot be put into words. You want to give every part of yourself to them.  
  
At twelve thirty you admit that might not be healthy.  
  
At one am the moon hangs proudly in the sky, and you, like an idiot, ask it a question.  
  
"Why does love hurt so bad?"  
  
Why do you have to run from Illumi, constantly have an eye thrown over your shoulder, why do you have to parent Alluka. Why can't you just be her brother instead of a guardian too. Why is being her guardian so stressful. Why did he leave you. Why are you still in love even now. There are so many unasked questions in that one statement.  
  
The moon, of course, offers no answers. It only stares back at you, cold, beautiful, and uncaring.  
  
At one thirty you come up with your own answer. You are in love. You are alone. Love hurt because you are alone was the fourth and final truth. Or better put, love wasn't meant to be lonely. Love is a heavy burden, but a burden not meant to be taken alone.  
  
At two am everything is too much. The night breeze hits your skin like daggers, and every emotions feels like a fresh whip to your raw skin. You're on fire from the inside out. You are dying. This is what death feels like. Every thought feels like an ice cold blade.  
  
You still can't shut up with thoughts about love and lonliness filling your head, and you just want to take your brain in your hands and tell it to shut up. Shut up _shut up shut up_. It would be so much easier if you could silence it, but everything feels so raw and real. Every movement you make feels like a move in a blizzard. Reality slices through you like a knife. Everything is so real it hurts and you just want it to stop. The pain is unbearable. The intensity blinds you, it makes you sweat and makes tears spill from your eyes uncontrollably  
  
You were so good at keeping your emotions down, but when they wouldn't stay down, they were fiery and intesne and so painfully real. You grab your ears and hold them tight muttering "shut up". You tell yourself you are perfectly stable despite this, to make sure your family is never right about you.  
  
At three am your heart rate is once again normal and the tears have been wiped from your face. It is almost as if that display never happened. But you know it happened. The swiftness with which it left, leaving behind no trace, felt like a cruel joke. You couldn't even prove to yourself that it happened. But yet you remember the fiercity of those emotions. You know. You understand.  
  
Your four truths stick with you afterwards. After you slip silently back into the motel and reassure yourself of Alluka's pulse. After you tuck yourself into bed. They feel childish and petulant, but god if you don't clutch them tightly to your chest, refusing to let go. And if in the morning your sister has extra pancakes on her plate and Gon has a suspiciously enthusiastic goodmorning text? That is between you and the stars.


End file.
